Chapter 499: The Death of "Thanos" and the Mess

Earlier, to avoid detection, Doyle had instructed all the armed personnel to cover themselves with desert-colored camouflage cloth when setting up the ambush. All vehicles were also parked several kilometers away. This created a problem: when it was time to flee, little Carlos would have to run for miles across the open desert before reaching any transportation.

Seeing his men, including Doyle, being taken out one by one by precise grenade shots, little Carlos knew it was over. However, he wasn't foolish enough to immediately turn and run. Leaving the cover of the boulder would mean meeting the same fate as Doyle. So, he stayed hidden under the camouflage cloth, hoping the drones overhead wouldn't spot him.

On the highway, the joint task force wasn't faring much better. Matt's vehicle had been silent the entire time. Jack, though expecting the worst, still gasped when he reached the Humvee. 

At the start of the battle, a rogue Mexican federal police truck had sprayed the Humvee's driver's cabin with bullets for over a minute. Jack's Suburban had eventually rammed the truck off the road, but by then, the Humvee's bulletproof glass had shattered. When Jack opened the door, he found three corpses and Michael, barely clinging to life, clutching his neck.

"Call the Black Hawk! The area is secure. Get that bastard back here, we have a critical casualty!" Jack angrily shouted over the comms.

This was the first time a familiar face had died in front of him—though "Thanos," as they called him, wasn't much to look at anymore.

"Oh, Mother of God!" Isabelle covered her mouth, tears welling up in her eyes as she stared at her father's lifeless body in the backseat, her expression full of complex emotions.

"Come help me," Jack said, giving her little time to mourn. Alessandro had taken a team to clear the left flank, and with only three people left to face off against the rogue Mexican federal officers, the only one who could lend a hand was this young girl.

"Hold his head for me," Jack ordered as he pulled Michael from the driver's seat. Compared to Matt, Michael had been far luckier. Despite being shot twice in the chest and having his neck pierced, he had miraculously survived.

One of the bullets to his chest had been stopped by his body armor plate, while the other had struck the edge, ricocheting into his shoulder. It had caused significant bleeding but wasn't fatal. The bigger issue was his neck wound. A bullet fragment had grazed his trachea but miraculously avoided his arteries. However, with every breath, a whistling sound escaped from the hole in his neck.

Michael, being experienced, had kept pressure on the wound and kept his head low to prevent blood from flooding his airway. This action likely saved his life.

"Hang in there!" Jack tore open a first-aid kit, injected morphine, and then grabbed a nasopharyngeal airway tube. Cutting off part of the soft tube, he used a scalpel to open the front of Michael's trachea and inserted the airway tube. After securing it with bandages, Jack cast a quick healing spell to stabilize him. Michael's life was saved, at least for the time being. The rest would be up to the doctors once they got him back.

Michael gasped for air, his hands—still covered in blood—gripping Jack's arm tightly. He couldn't speak but looked at Jack with desperate eyes.

"He didn't make it," Jack said sadly, already knowing what Michael wanted to ask. He shook his head and told Isabelle to take care of him, before turning to the overturned Humvee to try to save more wounded.

There was nothing he could do for Matt, who had been shot in the head. However, two of the four PMC contractors in the Humvee were still breathing. Jack thought, "If I can save even one, I'll try."

The joint task force had originally included seven Mexican federal police cars in their convoy, with three in front and four in the rear. The first vehicle at the front had been destroyed by an RPG. One of the pickup trucks had turned traitor, and another had driven off the road in retreat and was nowhere to be seen. After the last vehicle in the rear was flipped by an explosion, the remaining three cars didn't join the battle or rebel. Instead, they stayed hidden behind their vehicles, only peeking out when they saw that Jack's side had gained control of the situation.

One of the PMCs, burning with anger, helped Jack pull the injured out of the wreckage and couldn't help but ask, "Should we take them out?"

With one CIA agent dead and another critically injured, Jack, now the de facto leader of the group, turned to look at the confused Mexican federal police officers. Some of Jack's team had guns trained on them, while Alessandro's men were finishing off stragglers nearby, adding to the tension.

Though Jack had no personal attachment to Matt, having worked with him only out of mutual benefit, seeing a familiar face die in front of him left him in a foul mood. He looked at the useless officers with disgust. Handing the wounded to the PMC, Jack grabbed his LG5A grenade launcher and yelled in Spanish, "Get out of here, or die!"

Some of the officers might have been infiltrators, but after witnessing the power of the grenade launcher and hearing the sound of the approaching Black Hawk helicopter, they quickly abandoned any other thoughts. Scrambling back to their vehicles, they loaded their own wounded and fled, swerving around the burning remains of the police car as they sped off.

Jack let out a small sigh of relief. If they had been forced to kill the federal police, the situation would have spiraled out of control. Even as it stood, things were still a mess. Killing Doyle had only fulfilled Jack's personal goal, but the operation as a whole had failed. With old Carlos dead, a split within the Reyes cartel was inevitable.

A showdown with the Matamoros gang was now out of the question. In fact, internal strife might completely destroy the Reyes cartel. And there were the inevitable repercussions of the involvement of Mexican federal police in this unofficial operation. Despite Mexico's corrupt government, it was still the legal administration of a country with over 100 million people.

Acknowledging internal issues or blaming a shadowy, unofficial task force? The answer was obvious.

Jack's head throbbed at the thought of the diplomatic fallout between the two nations. However, the CIA would bear the brunt of it. Whatever happened, it wouldn't fall on a mere FBI agent like him.

As these thoughts crossed his mind, Jack glanced at Isabelle, who was still caring for Michael. He wondered what fate awaited this young girl now.

The Black Hawk helicopter landed, guided by two PMCs, and together they loaded the three injured onto the aircraft. Just then, Jack received more bad news: ten kilometers to the south, another Mexican police convoy was on its way.

Waving the helicopter off with the wounded aboard, Jack and the remaining three PMCs loaded all their comrades' bodies—including Matt's—into the Suburban. Alessandro, having finished clearing the battlefield, had captured little Carlos, dragging him back like a dead dog after shooting him in the leg.

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